


I, for You

by Renai_chan



Series: Ethos of Trust [1]
Category: Captain America (2011), Iron Man (Movies), The Avengers - All Fandoms
Genre: Dom/sub, M/M, Mentions of underage kissing/petting, teenage!Tony
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-03-21
Updated: 2012-03-21
Packaged: 2017-11-02 07:12:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,713
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/366345
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Renai_chan/pseuds/Renai_chan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Tony is a sub and Howard needs Steve to be his Dom.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I, for You

**Author's Note:**

> A bit of a background: This fic is set in 1988 where Tony is 18 and Steve and Howard are in their 60s (I figured Tony was born when Howard was around 50), but to make it less creepy, Steve looks to be in his 30s thanks to the Super Soldier Serum (and isn’t that a convenient excuse?). Steve is much more jaded thanks to living through the war and after it and isn’t the complete optimist/Boy Scout everyone knows him to be. D/s universe.
> 
> This is definitely gonna be a ‘verse, coz I have a thing about Dom!Steve and sub!Tony.
> 
> Warnings: A large age difference? Incesty-ish (though technically not because Tony is in no way related to Steve biologically)?

Steve was with Howard when they found out about Tony, and Howard’s worst fears came true.

 

Like all sixteen-year-olds, Tony’s orientation finally manifested almost suddenly, and when it did, Howard immediately made a beeline for the liquor cabinet in his study that held the best of his stock. Steve watched him go, sighed, and ushered Tony to his room, settling him in and telling him to stay put while he and his father talked. He shut the door behind him and calmly made his way to the study, sighing once more as he leaned against the doorjamb and observed the other man.

 

“You can’t tell me you haven’t expected this… or planned for the possibility at the very least, Howard,” he said. Howard waved him in and asked him to shut the door behind him.

 

“Not expected, but planned, yes,” he answered, taking a sedate sip from his tumbler. “That doesn’t make it any less disappointing, though.” Steve scoffed and folded his arms over his chest.

 

“Of all the things you could have possibly been disappointed about in Tony, you choose something that he has absolutely no control of whatsoever? I mean, he lost the Prime Minister of Britain’s prized parrot, and nearly caused an international incident; I’m pretty sure that was much worse than this.” Howard turned to him, his eyebrows raised. Steve knew perfectly well that Howard was proud of Tony in every single way; nothing he could possibly do could make Howard any less proud, and Howard told him so. “Well, you better tell _him_ that because right now your son is sitting in his room, an inch away from bawling his eyes out because he’s convinced you hate him for this.” Howard sighed heavily.

 

“I could never hate him, you know that,” he said. “It’s just… The company is the second most important thing to me in this world.” Steve refrained from pointing out that he had a wife, too. “And he’s my only son, and when the time comes, I’m going to lose both.” Howard’s voice broke at the end, and Steve again refrained from making any comment. Howard was a proud man, and it wouldn’t do to point out his shortcomings (or what he saw as shortcomings, anyway). Instead, he settled down in the seat across the desk and patiently waited until Howard had drained and refilled his glass of whiskey.

 

“So you say you’ve planned for this…” he prompted slowly.

 

“It has to be arranged,” Howard said after a long while. And while anyone else would have seen only conviction, Steve knew it was eating him to have to do that to Tony. He also knew that Howard had spent a great deal of time thinking this over and considering all possible ramifications, most especially the one wherein Tony may hate him forever, so he chose not to point them any anymore. “With someone of my choosing… Someone I can trust and who I know will allow and support Tony in managing the company when the time comes for him to take over, but more importantly, someone I know would not take advantage of him.” Steve almost laughed. Howard trusted almost no one; that criterion alone narrowed the candidate pool to about eight people.

 

“James Rhodes?” he asked because Rhodey was Tony’s best friend and the only one of the eight Tony’s age.

 

“Not my first choice,” Howard answered, standing up and facing the window. Steve sat up sharply because he then knew Howard was either hiding something or was about to say something that he didn’t want to say.

 

“Howard…” he prompted, but received no response. Instead, Howard only turned to face him, but it was then that he knew what Howard was thinking. “You’re not _serious_?” he asked in incredulity.

 

“Why not?” he demanded, his face set such that it expressed his fierce determination. It was this look that got Howard everything and anything he wanted in addition to the fear and respect of the people he asked it of. Steve was used to it and did not respond in the same way; he continued to gape at him. “I’ve thought about it more than I’ve thought about anything else, and you, more than anyone, should know how much that means. It’s the most logical thing to do, Steve, bar none.”

 

“B… but…” Steve stammered.

 

“’But’ what?” Howard asked, sitting back down. “Tell me who you would suggest be a better candidate than you? I trust you above anyone else with my life and with my company and with my son. You’re my best friend, Steve, and you’re Tony’s godfather. There’s no one who would be better to take care of him than you.”

 

“But that’s just it, Howard. I’ve known Tony since he was born, and I’d like to think I’ve helped you raise him. Don’t you see how strange that would be for me to shift from a paternal role to… to his Dom? It’s…”

 

“Of course, I’ve thought about that! But tell me: who would you trust to do what I ask you to? Who do you think _I_ would trust to do what I ask you to?” Steve looked around as though the books and décor held the answer to Howard’s question.

 

“What about Rhodey?” he asked.

 

“He’s a child, and his father’s in the military. Tell me how can I expect him not to take advantage of that?” Howard scoffed.

 

“But Tony’s sixteen and I’m _sixty nine_ , Howard.”

 

“Please. You’re hardly going to be accused of cradle robbing. If it’s any consolation, though, you look no older than thirty five; I’m pretty sure you’re aging half as fast as normal people do. Tony would probably surpass you biologically by the time _he’s_ sixty.”

 

“What about James’s son?” Steve asked, knowing James Falsworth was one of the few people Howard liked and trusted particularly because James was rich enough in his own right and hardly interested in anything Howard had to offer.

 

“I’ve considered him, too. But that’s assuming he’s a Dom himself and we have five years before we know for sure.”

 

“So surely we can wait till then?”

 

“Of course, we can, Steve, but when have you known me to settle for second best? _Why_ should I gamble on a child who I have no way of knowing whether or not he’d grow up to be the respectable man his father is or the abusive louse his grandfather was? I’m offering you my son on a silver platter, and you _know_ how big a deal that is to me and how many people would _kill_ to be given the same chance. _Why_ is the idea so absurd to you? So repulsive?” Howard snapped.

 

“No,” Steve said. “No, Howard it’s not. Calm down. Christ.” He squeezed his temples briefly. “You know I haven’t had a sub since…” he broke off before he could choke on the name, but Howard knew who he was referring to and calmed down because of it.

 

“Steve,” he started. “It’s been over forty years. Don’t you think it’s time you moved on?” he asked, reaching over and squeezing Steve’s wrist. Steve stared at the hand for a moment before looking back up to his friend.

 

“It’s not that simple, Howard,” he sighed. “It’s not easy to forget that he was mine and that I loved him and that I lost him because of my own stupid mistake—“

 

“It was an _accident_ , Rogers. It’s not as if you didn’t try to save him,” Howard butted in before Steve could go on with his well-practiced self-depreciating monologue of how he let Bucky plunge to his death. Howard knew every word by heart and knew that Steve didn’t deserve any of it. “No one blames you. _Bucky_ wouldn’t blame you, so why should you?” he continued. “And really. If Bucky were here, right now, listening to our conversation, what do you think would he say?” Steve had to take a painful moment to think about it, but eventually, he gave a short laugh that wasn’t half as forced as it usually was when he spoke about Bucky.

 

“He’d tell me that I was being a punk and that I should stop moping around,” he said quietly. Howard squeezed his wrist briefly, prompting another sigh. Steve eventually looked up. “Tony’s great, Howard. Anyone would be favored by the gods to have him, myself included. But… but I really just need time to think about it, okay?” Howard nodded.

 

“Take all the time you need,” he answered.

 

……………

 

“So,” came the voice of the one of the people Steve most disliked in the world. “I heard about Tony.” Steve clenched his fist minutely, but quickly unclenched and signed his name at the bottom of the PR proposal with a flourish, before sitting back against his chair, staring down the man that loomed in his doorway. Obadiah Stane was a big man after all, physically and otherwise, and tended to loom wherever he went, but Steve was just as big and had never been intimidated by the man anyway.

 

“I’m sure you did,” he answered with ease, only years of practice keeping the venom out of his voice. They hated each other with a passion and both knew it, but both were trusted friends of Howard— Stane being Howard’s most trusted financial adviser and, recently, Chief Financial Officer, and his friend for nearly thirty years—and would consequently never snipe at each other in a crude, obvious manner. The other man neared the desk.

 

“Howard told me,” he said unnecessarily because of course Howard did. Steve refused to bat Stane’s hands away from touching the picture frames on his desk. He clasped his hands together over his stomach to keep from doing so while Stane picked up a picture of Tony when he was younger, in the authentic, kid-sized Captain America Halloween costume Howard made him and carrying a bucket of candy in one hand and Steve’s actual shield in the other. Stane put it down before glancing back at Steve and saying, “He also told me what he asked of you.” Steve frowned.

 

“And I suppose that’s any of your business, why?” Stane grinned.

 

“I suppose it’s not. I came here to congratulate you, though.” Steve peered up at him and frowned.

 

“I haven’t accepted yet.” Stane’s grin only spread.

 

“Oh, I know,” he said and turned to walk away, and only Steve’s super-soldier-enhanced senses allowed him to hear Stane say, “I’m counting on it.” He quickly grabbed the telephone receiver and dialed Howard’s personal line.

 

“You told Stane?” he asked as soon as Howard picked up. There was a moment’s pause before the CEO answered.

 

“Oh! About Tony! Of course I did. Why?”

 

“He was in here not a second ago, congratulating me for you having asked me,” Steve tried to keep the annoyance out of his tone, but Howard was his best friend and he knew. He scoffed.

 

“You two and your ridiculous rivalry,” he said and Steve fought the urge to correct him. Stane wasn’t his _rival_ thank you very much; Stane was a grade-A bastard that was not above using either of the Starks for his own personal ends: to become rich, famous and powerful, and if he managed to get either (or _both_ ) of them into his bed, well, that wasn’t a downside at all. He wasn’t the kind of person Steve wasn’t about to let Howard and Tony be pawns to, though it still amazed him to see both of them put all their trust into a guy that wouldn’t hesitate to stab them in the back at the next available opportunity. For all the genius that they were in the fields of physics, engineering, math and countless others that Steve couldn’t even begin to understand, they were both being rather dim about Stane.

 

“And?” Steve asked, ignoring the jibe.

 

“’And,’ what?”

 

“He seemed pretty pleased that I haven’t accepted yet.” There was a pause. Quite a long one really. It sort of made Steve nervous. “Howard?”

 

“I…” Howard started. “I don’t think we should discuss this, really. Not until you’ve made your decision… I don’t want to rush you, and I don’t want to affect your decision in any way.”

 

“Howard…”

 

“Shut up, Steve. Just think about what I asked you and don’t worry about Obi, okay?” Steve sighed loudly and rubbed a hand over his face as he feigned agreement with Howard and hung up. It took all his willpower not to rush into Howard’s office and shake him hard and yell at him, or punch some sense into him if necessary. He fucking _offered_ Tony to Stane. On a _silver fucking platter_. Of _course_ he did because he was an _idiot_.

 

Well fuck Stane very much if he thought Steve was stupid enough to do the same.

 

……………

 

Tony couldn’t get rid of the blush that popped onto his cheeks every time his eyes caught sight of Steve.

 

It was his eighteenth birthday, and it was spent with five hundred of his family’s “closest” friends. They weren’t really, but it was commonplace in high society for parents of children turning eighteenth to host grand birthday celebrations that included everyone and their uncle.

 

Howard didn’t usually like hosting such frivolities, but he liked flirting with the guests and drinking the wine that accompanied such occasions, so he allowed Maria to indulge in her frivolities and just came for the entertainment.

 

Steve, on the other hand, hated these kinds of gatherings with a passion. He pasted on a smile and laughed and schmoozed and drank and danced, but Tony knew him well enough to know that he’d rather be doing anything else, _anything_ , than attending these meaningless parties. Every single birthday he had ever had and those of his father’s and mother’s and godfather’s were celebrated twice upon Steve’s firm insistence: once in a grand bash that Howard and Maria threw where high society and the media were invited, and once more in a private affair that included less than fifty people, several kegs of beer, loud music and raucous laughter. Oh, and no one was allowed to wear bowties.

 

Tony second eighteenth birthday was going to be held the following weekend, and he was sure it was going to be _legendary_ with Rhodey hosting and all. But even then, the thing about his eighteenth birthday he was most looking forward to was what was going to happen tonight after all the guests had left and his father and mother had retired to their rooms.

 

Tony blushed again and sipped at his champagne before asking a short question of Warren Worthington III just to give the impression he was still involved in their conversation. Rhodey smirked knowingly, though.

 

His father had told him about his plan a few weeks after they found out he was a sub. He knew his Dom was going to be arranged for him, with his consent, his father said, but he knew his consent really wouldn’t matter in the way of choice anyway.

 

For the only child of one of the richest family-owned corporations in the world to be declared a sub was an insanely huge deal for the company owners. Submissives, by law, were required to turn over all their property to their Dominants. And while certain laws protected rights of submissives, especially from abuse and being turned out on the street, penniless and unable to take care of themselves, submissives were unable to claim anything to their own name. This meant that Howard would have to bequeath the company to another, to Tony’s would-be-Dom, rather than handing it to Tony himself which he would have done had Tony become a Dom.

 

And so an arranged union was the best and most logical choice, and Tony liked to think that he was adult enough to understand that.

 

And then Howard told him _who_ he had chosen to be Tony’s Dom, and Tony subsequently lit up like a lightbulb.

 

Tony _adored_ Steve, and Steve adored Tony, and it was a perfect match really because Steve knew Tony like the back of his hand and took care of him and loved him and really, the sex part would be just icing on the cake. Steve was, of course, there when Howard told Tony. He watched the conversation calmly, and when Tony turned to look at him, smiled in the way he would when Tony would give him his newest invention made specifically for him. Tony just smiled back shyly then excused himself to build Steve another robot.

 

The next day, Steve asked Tony if he would like to go out for a hotdog in the park.

 

Tonight was when it was going to be official. Imprintings didn’t happen until both sub and Dom were at least eighteen, and Steve was adamant that he would not touch Tony until then. And while necking and petting were all well and good, Tony had spent the last year, four months, three days and six—no, six and a half hours thinking about how Steve was going to take him.

 

He sipped his champagne once more and promptly choked on it when Tiberius Stone asked:

 

“Are you alright, Anthony? You seem a little flushed.” Rhodey chuckled and slapped Tony unhelpfully on the back.

 

“It’s the champagne, Tiberius. Tony should really be laying off of it. Don’t want you falling asleep before the night’s out, right, Tony?” he asked with a wink. Tony elbowed him in the ribs and batted him away.

 

“I’m _fine_ ,” he grumbled, but surreptitiously set the glass of champagne down anyway by pretending to be interested in selecting a canapé. Rhodey then steered him away from the hors‘d oeuvres table and towards the balcony.

 

“So,” he started teasingly. “You ready for this?” Tony glared at him for a moment before sighing loudly and dramatically draping himself onto the balustrade.

 

“We only have a few hours left, but…” he said. “But _look_ at him, Rhodey. Inasmuch as he hates these things, he’s making damn sure he looks positively _edible_ , and he’s _torturing me_. It’s like I’m sixteen all over again, and I’d have to wait two _more_ years.” Rhodey hid his laugh behind his wrist. “If I see him licking his lips one more time, I _swear_ … Fuck the media; I’m jumping him right in the middle of the room.” Tony sighed and pressed his forehead against the cool cement.

 

“And if I lick _your_ lips? _Then_ what are you going to do?” a familiar whisper suddenly caressed his ear. Tony shivered, but responded cheekily all the same.

 

“Probably give you a blowjob by the cake table.” Steve laughed and pulled him off the balustrade and into his arms.

 

“Do you even _know_ how to give a blowjob?” he asked. Tony reached behind him to pull Steve down by the back of his neck and whispered “irrelevant” just before kissing him. Steve turned the younger man around in his arms so that he could lift him up and have him sit on the balcony railing so that their height difference was minimized and tugged on Tony’s chin to part his lips and allow his tongue entry. Tony moaned softly and wrapped his arms around Steve’s neck while the other man gripped his waist and pressed their hips close, drawing out a louder moan from the teenager. When they pulled apart, Tony said:

 

“Please, please, _please_ tell me you’re not going to ask me to go back inside after _that_.” Steve chuckled and kissed his forehead.

 

“As a matter of fact, I have your parents’ permission to sneak away and put you to bed,” he said, kissing Tony’s cheek. Tony pulled back and frowned at him.

 

“You’re going to make me _sleep_?” he said. Steve chuckled once more and kissed his nose.

 

“I said ‘put you to bed,’ Tony, not ‘sleep.’” Then Tony blushed and grinned brightly at the same time.

 

“Oh, well, in that case. Yeah, I think I’d like to retire for the night. But oh. Wait. Where’s Rhodey?” he asked, looking over Steve’s shoulder. Steve wrapped both of Tony’s legs around his waist, though, prompting Tony to secure them.

 

“He went back in; I’m pretty sure he knows he won’t be seeing you for the rest of the night. Hold tight, baby,” he instructed, and didn’t _that_ make a sharp shiver run through Tony. One of Steve’s hands wrapped itself around Tony’s waist while the other hoisted the both of them up onto the balustrade. After a quick glance below, he jumped off of the balcony and onto the grass on the first floor as though jumping down two stories with a one-hundred-fifty-pound weight was the equivalent of jumping off a chair holding a bunny. Steve let Tony down and quickly checked him over before kissing him. “I’d rather not alert the media just yet,” he murmured by way of explanation and led Tony around the house and into his bedroom via the garden entrance.

 

It was the sight of the bed illuminated by the moonlight streaming in through the windows that made Tony pause. Steve stopped and turned to his sub when he felt the hand he was tugging on tug him back. He wasn’t pale or scared or nervous really (well a bit nervous), mostly thoughtful, and Steve could only step closer and cup his cheeks and press their lips together for a slow kiss. Tony melted against him and wrapped both his arms around Steve’s neck, kissing him back as deeply as he could.

 

“I’ll be gentle,” Steve promised, taking Tony’s hand and pressing a kiss to its back.

 

“You don’t have to be,” Tony whispered back, tilting his head, asking for another kiss. Steve obliged him with a quick one. “Take me as you want,” the teenager added, dropping his gaze as he stepped closer before looking up at the former soldier and adding, “sir.” Steve groaned rather loudly and grabbed Tony by the back of his neck to kiss him. Tony stood on his tiptoes to press himself closer and opened his mouth to let Steve’s tongue in. He couldn’t help but press himself against the older man’s thigh, which Steve slipped between his legs, and ride it in wanton lust up until Steve tugged him closer to the bed and pressed him down onto it.

 

There they exchanged several more kisses, practiced but no less hot, until Steve pulled himself away to gaze at Tony, panting and flushed on the navy blue bedspread. He took his time in unhooking each button on Tony’s shirt and tugging it out of his pants and allowed Tony to sit up slightly to take the jacket and shirt off before pressing kisses and bites and sucks to his neck and shoulders and chest while the younger man kicked his shoes off. When his tongue darted out to tease a nipple, Tony suddenly cried out and tangled his fingers in Steve’s hair, and so Steve repeated the motions several times on each nipple while pinching and tugging the unattended one until Tony was nearly sobbing in pleasure.

 

“Please, Steve,” he begged. “Please, sir. More. Please.” And so Steve gave him more by sucking on the juncture between his neck and shoulder while palming him through his trousers and fumbling with the belt and button. When these were undone, his slipped his hand beneath the fabric and Tony’s underwear and stroked him, wringing more moans and cries out of his throat. “Stevestevesteve. Please. Oh god, yes. Fuckfuckfuck. Steve, please…” Tony’s babbles degenerated into incoherency as Steve worked him and stroked him and peppered his neck with lovebites. “Steve, stop. Stop. I’m going to come,” Tony moaned. “Unless that’s what you want, but Steve, please I want you inside me when I come. Please.” Steve groaned against his throat, but pulled away nevertheless.

 

“We should probably work on getting you a safeword,” he murmured after a moment of collecting his thoughts, which was admittedly rather difficult with Tony spread out before him, his neck dotted red, his skin flushed and shiny with sweat and his cock hanging out of his trousers.

 

“I don’t need a safeword, Steve,” Tony answered. “You won’t hurt me.” Steve accepted the gesture of trust with an intake of breath and a small, reverent kiss then helped Tony out of his pants and underwear. He was really more beautiful naked, Steve thought as he moved to undress as well. Tony sat himself up and pulled Steve closer by the lapels of his jacket and pushed the dark fabric off his shoulders and threw it onto the floor. He silently asked for another kiss before he started working on the buttons of Steve’s shirt, kissing each inch of flesh as it was revealed. Steve’s body was the epitome of perfection: well-muscled, scarless, nearly hairless and begging for adoration, which Tony willingly gave.

 

He worshipped Steve’s chest with his mouth and hands, stroking and licking and kissing what he could, from his neck, to his washboard abs. Tony traced the muscles with his tongue while fumbling with the clasp of Steve’s pants, earning him moans of approval. Steve switched their positions so that he was lying back against the bed and Tony was above him, tasting every inch of skin he could reach, up until his tongue found Steve’s hips and the blonde jerked up against him.

 

“Your _mouth_ , Tony,” he moaned. Tony smiled and tugged off his shoes and socks and pants and his underwear, leaning over the footboard to discard them on the floor. When he turned back to Steve, their eyes found each other’s and slowly roved down each other’s naked bodies, and then suddenly it was all real and all happening. Tony bit his lip and was suddenly unsure of himself. He fidgeted while Steve watched him but refrained from saying anything, waiting for the instruction that was “come here, Tony.” And so he came closer and gave the kiss that Steve silently asked for and moaned when he felt large hands on his ass, pulling him close and squeezing.

 

“Please, Steve,” he whispered and Steve nodded. This wasn’t the time for games; there would be plenty of that for later. He guided Tony onto his back and reached over the nightstand for the lube he put there this morning. Tony bent his knees and spread them wide because he knew what was coming next. Steve coated two fingers with the slick substance and pressed one against Tony’s hole at the same moment as he pressed his mouth against Tony’s cock and Tony promptly cried out. The soldier’s mouth and finger moved in tandem, inside and around Tony, drawing cries and moans and sobs from the younger man. He felt his hair tugged at as he worked his sub, rotating and sliding his finger in and out until he decided that he could add another. Tony cried out again and spread his legs wider, conflicted by the pain and discomfort of the fingers in him and the pleasure of the mouth around him. “Please, Steve. I’m ready. Please…” he murmured because the fingers weren’t enough. He wanted to feel Steve in him; he wanted to be filled, to be claimed, to be taken completely. Steve ignored him though, but withdrew his fingers so that he could add more lube and lube up a third finger.

 

“Not yet, Tony,” he said and pressed the two fingers back in, earning a choke from the smaller man. He didn’t blow Tony this time around. He wanted to watch as his lover moaned and writhed and sobbed and begged until it satisfied him enough to add a third finger. His patience was tested with each passing second and he thrust in Tony and the teenager sobbed and fisted the sheets. “Don’t come,” he ordered and Tony choked back a sob and nodded. Steve thrust his fingers in faster, spreading them inside and when he was satisfied that Tony was stretched enough, pulled his fingers out and squeezed a liberal amount of lube onto his cock.

 

He pressed one hand to the pillow beside Tony’s ear, leaning over him to align his cock with Tony’s sopping and stretched hole with his other hand. Tentatively, carefully, he nudged at the entrance, drawing a moan out of Tony.

 

“Open your eyes, baby,” he whispered. “Watch me take you.” Tony obeyed and opened his eyes, glistening with unshed tears. Steve nudged at his entrance harder and Tony released a strangled sound. “Relax, sweetheart, or it’ll hurt more,” Steve murmured as he pushed harder and Tony cried out again. He slowly, slowly slid himself into the tight hole until the head popped through. Tony’s mouth was open to emit a silent sound, but as Steve ordered, his eyes were wide open, watching Steve’s face. A trickle of a tear left one eye, so Steve kissed him, wet and hot and distracting until Tony was kissing back, his arms wrapped around Steve’s neck. Steve pushed himself further inside, a millimeter at a time trying to ignore Tony’s whimpers of pain. “Relax, baby, relax. Almost there,” he murmured, nuzzling the tears that continued to trickle out of Tony’s eyes. His hand found Tony’s cock and stroked him as he pushed, stretching Tony wider and wider until he was buried in him to the hilt.

 

“Steve,” Tony moaned weakly, the pain just about overpowering the pleasure that was Steve fucking him and so he strove to focus on that: that Steve was buried in him, that he was stretched and spread and claimed by his Dom, that he was filled and _whole_ and wanted. And that we wanted to feel more. “Steve. I’m okay. I’m okay,” he murmured, shifting ever so slightly to hint at movement. Steve only nodded and pushed just a fraction forward before slowly drawing out, making Tony hiss. “No, no. Go,” Tony said when Steve stopped. “Please, Steve. I want _more_.” So Steve moved further, pulling out farther until just the tip of his cock was pressed in, and pushed back in, still very slowly, but much faster than the first time. He repeated the motion again, fascinated as Tony’s hisses of pain transformed into moans of pleasure. So he repeated it again.

 

“Oh… Tony…” he moaned, as his thrusts became easier and faster as Tony relaxed and loosened. He sucked at Tony’s pulse point as he pulled himself out and pushed back in in one smooth move. This had Tony crying out and arching up. And then Tony became more responsive: meeting each thrust with a shift of his hips, spreading himself wider, stroking Steve’s back and whispering nonsense that had Steve groaning loudly.

 

“Yes. Yesyesyes, Steve. Please. Yes, that’s… Oh, that’s good,” he babbled. “Oh, god… You’re in me, Steve, you’re fucking me, and you’re so fucking good and you’re so big. And more, please.” Steve groaned against his throat, choosing a new spot and biting down onto it. Tony urged him on with his heels to Steve’s ass, earning him several deep and hard thrusts. “God… Oh, god, yes, Steve. Take me. Take me…” he was breathless and writhing and Steve fought not to laugh at his impatience. Instead, he pulled himself up and grasped Tony’s hips and thrust into him, bruisingly, punishingly and Tony cried and sobbed and begged for more and Steve gave him more because he could barely hold himself back.

 

And then his orgasm hit him like a freight train: hard and fast and suddenly. He spilled into Tony, filling him with his come and sealing the bond between them as Dom and sub.

 

As almost an afterthought, he grasped Tony’s cock. Tony was still high from the fucking so he only needed a few sharp tugs and he was crying out and coming all over his chest and stomach.

 

When they finally could remember their names, Steve looked down at his lover, sated and truly fucked and immeasurably happy, and kissed him hard and passionately, because now, Tony was well and truly _his_.

 

……………

 

“Good morning, beautiful,” Tony heard as soon as his eyes fluttered open. The first thing he realized was that he wasn’t in his bed. The second thing was that Steve was kissing his neck. Only then did he remember last night and an involuntary moan escaped him. Steve chuckled. “Your father has been asking about you only for the past two hours. _Why_ he’s up before eight am, I’m eager to find out,” he murmured then kissed Tony fully on the mouth. Tony held him there with one hand at the back of his neck until Steve gently pried himself away. “I love you, my beautiful sub,” he whispered, pressing their foreheads together. Tony’s heard those three words innumerable times in the past, but now, with the label, it had a whole new meaning and he had to shut his eyes to choke back his emotion.

 

“I love you, too,” he murmured back and accepted another kiss and several more.

 

“Come on, darling. Time to break the news to your parents,” Steve eventually whispered when the euphoria of their declaration settled down and got up to ready for breakfast.

 

“Here’s to hoping they haven’t planned a fucking luncheon to celebrate,” Tony sighed as he sat up… or tried to really, but a sharp pain shot up through his spine and he winced and collapsed back against the bed. Steve was at his side in a second.

 

“Slowly, Tony,” he reprimanded, helping him sit up and swing his legs over the side of the bed. Tony suddenly gasped when he caught sight of himself in the mirror across the bed. He slowly approached said mirror, touching the bright red marks that covered his neck and shoulders. Steve wrapped his arms around Tony’s chest from behind, kissing his neck even as he observed Tony through the mirror.

 

“Fuck me if that isn’t fucking hot,” Tony whispered, grinding himself back against the erection pressed against his backside. “Or rather if it _is_.” Steve chuckled again.

 

“Not today, Tony. I don’t think you’ll be quite up to another round.” Tony turned around in his arms and smiled cheekily up at him.

 

“Wanna bet?” Steve shook his head with a laugh and kissed him again.

 

“Get dressed.”


End file.
